


Welcome Home

by GuileandGall



Series: Free To Be [5]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1728971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remy's canonization goes a little astray. Two of her oldest friend are Saints. One of them is still holding a grudge. Is there a chance at reconciliation? Or will their friendship remain strained?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt provided by Chrystis who asked about the aftermath of Remy's canonization. Thank to Chy and Lore for the read throughs. This piece kind of veered off course and my characters ran me over with unexpected reactions.

**Welcome Home**

**-1-**

"What the hell are you doing, Julius?" Troy asked as he squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight that bathed the graveyard in warmth.

"Trust me, Troy," Little said in a voice as deep, smooth, and cold as the dark places of the ocean.

"She's just a kid."

The ominous laughter unsettled the younger man. "You're not from this neighborhood, Troy, so I'll give you a pass on that one. But believe me; she was never just a kid," he replied, setting his hand on Bradshaw's shoulder. ""I know exactly what I'm doing. And unlike you, I know exactly who she is. She is just what we need."

Troy did not like the way he said that, and he found it hard to believe the Saints boss. Deep down, no matter who that girl was, Bradshaw was sure the blonde from last night did not need to be here.

"Who is she?" he asked as the two of them stood in the doorway of the church watching as the crowd gathered.

The black clad stranger stood out. Not a lot of people ran around dressed like that. Troy shook his head in amusement, he did not know if she was trying to cultivate some image or if she really thought that getup was unnoticeable. Black cargo pants, baggie hoodie zipped high with the hood pulled over a black cap which she wore low on her brow, the lithe little thing topped off the look with a pair of very dark sunglasses. Made him wonder if she was trying to get attention or obscure herself, truthfully it could be a tossup.

"Remy McGinnis," Julius drawled, the corner of his mouth quirking up

"McGinnis? Any relationship to-"

"Yep. Those are her people. So like I said she was never just some fucking kid," Julius reinforced with a sharp look before moving forward to call the crowd to order.

**-2-**

Remy kept to the edge of the crowd; tried to keep people between them. Dex would care less. Johnny? Well, Johnny was another story, she knew. Julius' reputation was known enough. Some of her uncle's crew mentioned him and the moves he and his so-called Saints were trying to make. Either way it really did not matter to her. It wasn't any worse or better than what she had spent the last few years doing. At least with this gig, there would be people around. And there was something to that.

"Yo! Who the hell is this?" Johnny challenged after flashing her a grin.

_Should've known_. She could have shown up in the churchyard in a neoprene face mask and Johnny still would have known it was her.  _That would be the disadvantage to people_ , she thought,  _even more so the better they know you_. And she and Johnny already had ten years of water under that washed out bridge.

"Anyone who want to roll with the Saints has to be canonized," her old friend reminded after Julius explained how she came to have a personal invitation to that little get together. Johnny stared at her. The coolness in his gaze said it all; he was not past it, which did not bode well. Then there came the smirk and the single nod. The little gesture in the air was punctuated by a familiar menacing chuckle.

Remy knew the signal, probably better than the people he was giving it to. He used it since fucking grade school, and it set her on the defensive long enough to get a count as to how many people were shifting forward instead of sideways to fill in the makeshift ring. The big guy had a hell of a tell and an even bigger follow thru, which gave her the advantage when he took his first swing. As he sailed past her, she helped him into a headstone and let him fall to the ground. The only sound was Gat's chuckle of approval which only spurred her on. The other two were not as easy as their big friend, but they were not the challenge they thought they were either.

The next group went for numbers over power.  _Five-on-one._ Three of them fought together, moving like a cohesive unit; what made it that much sweeter was she knew the one in the middle.  _Those have to be Johnny's boys_. The way they worked together felt familiar. Remy avoided them as much as possible as she whittled down the numbers.

Once she got the whole of the trio in front of her, which had taken a bit of work, she planned to keep it that way. Dodging punches from all sides sucked. Johnny's laughter from her right gave her a moment of inspiration.  _Unexpected_ , that was what her father always told her,  _in a fight never meet their expectations, always break them._

She had to even this up. She had to break up that group. So she did. The trio was widely spaced in hopes that one of them could sneak back behind her; and Remy just hoped they were spaced out enough that she could get back to her feet before the other two caught on. Taking two steps back she dashed at one of the wingmen and hit him square in the solar plexus with her shoulder. She rolled off him and scampered to her feet, giving him a quick kick to the side in the hopes it would make him think twice about rejoining this little party.

_Yeah that's not going to work again._ One of the tools in old friend's arsenal had always been his reputation. People know of him, though very few actually knew Johnny, but more people than ever met him had heard of Gat. She did not have the same rep. But she could probably at least surprise one of these guys, maybe intimidate him a little. She let her eyes dart to Johnny for a moment and smirked at him just a bit.

"How ya been, Frankie?" Remy taunted with a quick wink at the Italian before she shifted her eyes to his pal. "Nemo."

The big Italian stopped dancing and furrowed his brow at her. The thick-neck Guido's eyes went wide when she pulled the hoodie back and took off the cap. Even with the glasses gone he had not realized who it was, but then again he had not really been looking. The gesture made him see; made him realize precisely who he fought.

"Aw, fuck," Frankie replied out of instinct.

"Come on. Is that any way to greet an old friend? No, hello? How ya been?" Remy tilted her head at him as she took a few steps to the right, he mirrored her. "I'm hurt, Frankie. Truly I am."

"Just don't break nuthin', okay?" he requested.

"You know me." Her smile went from playful to a little bit cold. "I don't make promises like that."

When her own footwork stopped, Frankie took a few steps back, looking around for something that was not there. She heard the exhale as she tackled him.  _Frankie always did have a glass jaw_ , she reminded herself as the punch connected and he went out like a light. Remy was not above fighting dirty. At 5'3", she took advantage of every opening she got. Her torment of an old acquaintance caused her to lose sight of the last guy.

When she started to stand, his arms wrapped tight around her chest. He was too tall for her to reach his instep. As she flailed, the motion threw off his balance enough to get a good kick off a tombstone. Opting for self-preservation, he dropped her. When she lunged, he dodged. They traded a few blows, but mostly the pair just rebuffed each other's shots. But Remy had a short attention span for things like this; she was bored and really wanted to save her energy for what she knew had to happen.

Finally, she tripped him up-got him to feint when he should have dodged. After sweeping his feet out from under him, she stood over Nemo. He held up his hands, saying, "Not in the face."

She chuckled. Several people in the group did too, but Johnny just glared at her over the rims of his glasses with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"Julius!" Johnny called.

The boss moved down one step, but said nothing.

"We both know that this wasn't an even fight. And there's only one way to remedy that." Johnny took off his glasses carefully. Dex was not too far off. He gave Remy an apologetic nod, but took the glasses when Johnny handed them to him.

Remy rolled her shoulders forward and backward.  _This. This was the fucked up family reunion she knew was coming_. "How's it going, Johnny?"

"The fuck you care?" he shot back, shrugging off his jacket.

"You always were a self-absorbed prick. Ever think it didn't have shit to do with you, brother?"

He shrugged, tipping his head to one side. "Still could have said something,  _brother_." He spat the last word out of it, trying to steal any ulterior meaning it could have held.

"Fuck you, man. You wanna dance? Let's dance, but stop whining already."

Johnny lunged at her, which she was aiming for. She knew the jab to the kidneys as she dodged him would be the last shot she got for a while. As pissed as he was at her, had been at her for the last two years, that one shot would stick in his head and he would be more careful about letting her eek under his skin.

More blows landed in this exchange than the last, though for the most part it still became more about blocking, dodging, and reading their opponents. The disadvantage was that they learned to fight together; hell, usually against one another. They knew each other's styles too well, and though they had both added tricks to their arsenals; it went the way it usually did.

Remy caught Johnny on the cheek with a big right hook that left her too open. He grabbed her from behind, initially locking her up.

"You should have told me. I would have helped," he growled in her ear.

"You couldn't help. No one could," she argued, straining against his grapple.

"Bullshit!"

Getting one arm free, she jammed an elbow into his ribs. It caught him off guard enough for her to scamper loose.

"Don't you get it, asshole." She spat blood across the pavement. "I was fucking trying to protect you."

"Fuck you."

He caught her with a quick jab that dazed her for a second. Another split her lip. She returned it with a pair of quick blows to the body.

"I never asked you to," he grumbled lowly.

"Neither did I," she bit back, punching him in the face as she grabbed his shirt.

His response had her reeling. McGinnis could not be entirely certain but she was sure someone was yelling, maybe calling the fight. It did not matter. She expected to land on her ass, to hit the ground; instead her landing was softer, but not by much.

"Crazy motherfucker," Johnny said as he pulled her against his chest, an arm looping around her to steady his oldest friend.

Remy wrapped her arms around his waist loosely once she convinced her body to do her bidding again. "Takes one to know one."

"Can't believe you pulled this shit on  _me_."

"Fuck, Johnny. I had to," she said, pushing away from him. He caught her arms as the dizziness hit again.  _God he always did have a wicked cross._ Her hand closed around his forearm as he gripped her biceps. She gave up the secrecy of the last few years long enough to explain the reason behind it and her leaving Stilwater without a word to anyone. "For Percy."

He looked away for a moment, realizing that there was one thing that still ranked above her friends-the one stitch of real family she had left-her older brother. A few months before Remy practically vanished into thin air her brother had been shot, on their uncle's orders. He had botched a job. Percy did not succumb to his injury, but then her Uncle Ian had not wanted him dead. He just wanted the leverage over what he wanted, and he got it.

Remy and Percy McGinnis knew how to do a few things well-survive and kill. It was the legacy they got from their father after her mother died. Knives, guns, hand-to-hand: her father made sure, damn sure, she knew them all. Her uncle had contracted out her father's special talents. After his death, he did the same with her brother who had already been apprenticing with their father, for lack of a better phrase. Remy knew the same tricks, the same trade, as her brother but she had never worked with either of them. Her father never planned on her using the things he taught her.

In fact when she was in the fourth grade, he found out that she was and was monumentally angry. Dexter Jackson, Johnny Gat, and Remy McGinnis grew up in the same neighborhood; they all were at Stilman Elementary together though in different grades. Johnny tried to shake Remy down for her lunch money on her first day of first grade there. She kicked him in the shin and attacked his parentage in some fairly colorful ways; they were best friends from that point on. Just after winter break they happened upon Dex on the playground. He was nursing a busted nose from a fifth grader that was trying to assert himself. That was not the first time Remy and Johnny had done something like that, but beating up that kid that day made their dynamic duo a trio to be reckoned with.

That three became thick as thieves, as the saying goes. In third grade, Dex had a brilliant scheme. They started running a playground protection racket. The chess dorks would shell over a couple of bucks and their recess matches would go unsullied. Geeky kids used to getting wedgies on the way to class paid for an escort. It was a sweet gig. And the three of them split the proceeds evenly.

The next year it came to a head. They employed a few other kids. One decided to "freelance" and a  _discussion_  turned into more; he ratted out the whole scheme. Johnny, Dex, and Remy all got suspended. Remy also got relocated to a private school on the north side of town, though when she got home every day, she could always be found with her best friends.

Johnny nodded at her. It was not over she knew. Two years without one fucking word between them. They both still had shit left to say, but it was not going to get said while they had one another's blood on their knuckles.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," he said.

When she turned, Dex was there; he held Johnny's glasses out to him and smiled at her with more than a trace of relief. "Hey little mama." Dex gave great hugs for a skinny guy she could snap like a twig. "Fucking good to see you," he whispered toward her ear as he squeezed her.

"Missed you too, man. Both of you," she added, turning her head.

Johnny did not reply he just eyed her.

**-3-**

Gat did not even need to ask Dex where to find her. He knew the house was still in her family's name. Her brother rented out the upper floors and lived on the first. Remy always laid claim to the basement, and as far as he knew, since she left no one had lived in that basement. Good money told him that's exactly where he would find her.

Even so, he spent nearly half an hour leaning against the hood of his car staring at that house. He knew that place as well as his gram's place. As he stepped on the butt he dropped to the ground, he tried to ignore the sheer number of others there. They were all his-a third of a pack burned hard and fast as he battled with himself.

When the curtains of the front window shifted again, Johnny nodded at Percy. Her brother never really like Gat, thought he was a troublemaker and that meant he could not be a real friend or whatever, Johnny never really paid attention to that part of Percy's diatribes. The only reason Johnny checked in on him at all over the last few years was in hope that he would give up something about Remy, but Percy never did. Just bitched and moaned until Gat gave up and left.

"Fuck it," he finally said, straightening and crossing the street, oblivious to any traffic. He marched down the sidewalk beside the house, lifted the roof of a decorative little birdhouse and pulled the key out of its little alcove.

He knew Remy well enough to know that she did not like uninvited visitors, but he did not feel he qualified as either of those. She was his best friend, and vice versa. As he turned the key in the lock, there was a heartbeat when he wondered if maybe he should have knocked, but the thought was gone before it rooted. When he pushed the door open, he heard the distinctive sound of a hammer being set back in place.

"You dumb motherfucker," she scolded from behind him.

"Says the idiot that keeps the extra key in the same place it's been since she was six," he accused, pocketing the key.

She crossed the room and set the pistol on the workbench that took up most of the far corner of the room. "Thanks."

Johnny shrugged. He knew she was talking about the guns. After she bounced, he would check in on the place whenever he saw her brother. She left a lot of her dad's old gun collection here when she bailed and he took care of them for her. Secretly, he could give a fuck about the guns. He had come by hoping to see any hint that she had been home, but there never was.

"How long have you been back?"

"A week."

The math told him that if she was being straight with him that was two days before their little blow out in the churchyard. "How's the lip?"

Remy sighed and looked over her shoulder at him. "Beer's in the fridge. And cut the chit chat it was never your fucking style."

"You want one?" he asked tugging open the antique looking refer. He stared at it a moment before the smile curled his lips. "Should I even ask?"

When she turned, Remy rolled her eyes at him and opened the newer looking one next to the one he had opened. Remy handed him the bottle, while she pulled out a can of Dr. Pepper. Closing the door she went back to the table and the sniper rifle laying in pieces atop a soft swath of cloth.

"But seriously. Why is this refrigerator full of guns? Not that I'm knocking it." He tilted his head, eying the set up. Tugging open the little freezer door he got another instant reminder of why this woman was his best friend.  _Grenades and explosives in the freezer. They just don't make enough friends like you, Remy_.

"Gun cases are obvious. An extra refer, is just another appliance."

"Your daddy tell you that one," he asked, sipping at his beer.

"No."

Even in that one word he could hear it. He knew that tone. It was the same tone she had that night six years earlier when a call came to his house in the middle of the night. They were still just kids. With all the fights they had been in and all the shit that came down, it had been a night of firsts. The first time he ever heard that tone of voice. The first time he saw his friend with blood on her hands. And the first dead body he had seen up close.

"Who then?"

"Does it matter?"

"You tell me," he challenged as he sat down on a rickety chair at the crappy wobbly dining table.

"What do you want, Johnny?"

"Percy tell you I annoyed the shit out of him the last two years?"

"Yeah. I got to hear  _all_  about that."

He took a long pull on the bottle, knowing there was nothing that was going to calm the irritation prickling at him. Remy never used to keep things from him. He never had to push. Hell, usually he did not even have to ask.

"What happened?" His voice was a tight as his hand around the beer.

"I did what my uncle wanted."

He stared at her back. The best light in the entire hellhole of an apartment hung over that bench, swinging slightly. He could see the tension in the way the muscles of her shoulders moved. The little tank top did not do anything to hide the stiffness in the movements she made as she cleaned her father's rifle. He equally hated that smell and loved it-Hoppe's No. 9, the gun oil her father favored. She said she used it out of habit. Johnny knew it was because it reminded her of Liam McGinnis.

Johnny crossed the room and leaned on the table. "Why are you prepping Pop's baby?"

"Not prepping. Just maintenance. She just got home," Remy said quietly as she replaced the barrel.

He loomed there next to her watching her reassemble the first rifle either of them ever shot. Her dad did not completely hate Johnny. Mr. McGinnis just thought Gat was misguided and needed better direction. Hell, his favorite summer was still the one he spent in the woods with that tiny branch of the McGinnis clan. He probably did not learn as much as her pop would have liked, but Johnny would always credit his skill with a firearm to Liam.

Neither of them said a word while she worked. Remy laid the gun in the hard case carefully and snapped the lid closed. That one did not go in the refrigerator; it slid under the futon that always stayed in the flat position. He remembered when she put the damn thing together. Some screw or twig was missing or lost and the stupid thing would never stay up. Johnny rubbed at the back of his neck as if that would ease away the guilty twang that nipped at him. That was another reason he would come here when she was gone. It was the only place he was sure not to miss her so much.

"You used to talk to me," Johnny accused quietly, leaning on one elbow against her worktable.

"Yeah, well that was before." She pushed the case out of sight and stood keeping her back to him.

He took another sip. "You know I don't give a fuck what it was."

"Then why do you keep asking?" she set her hands on her hips.

Johnny tipped his head slightly and thought about it. "Because maybe if I push, you'll talk, then, maybe, my best friend might be back. Because I don't know what that is," he said gesturing in her direction. "But it's not Remy."

He could almost hear her blood boiling. When she turned he saw what he'd been waiting for. There was that legendary Irish fire. He set the bottle out of the way and straightened as she stalked toward him. "You know what, fuck you, Johnny. What the fuck gives you the right? Huh?"

"You did."

He held his palm up to her; even if no one else noticed the scar he knew she would remember it.

"Two fucking dumbass kids playing with knives in the fucking forest remember." Johnny clasped her right hand in his tightly and pulled her to him. "Blood brothers," he said with a smirk, staring into those big blue eyes he knew too well. He would wait all day if he had to; he was going to make her finish it.

"To the death," she conceded. Her eyes glistening slightly, she relented-gave up the fight with herself, with him, with the fucking world. When she rested her forehead against his shoulder, Gat set his hand on the back of her neck. "Fuck, Johnny. I never understood why Da was so adamant about not taking me with him and Perc, you know?"

"Yeah. I remember," he replied when she looked up at him.

"Did you know what he did?"

"No, but I pieced it together after the few visits I had with your brother where he'd been drinking. He's a chatty drunk."

Remy squeezed his hand again then let go of it. She turned and ran her hands through her hair. "Twenty-two kills. That's what was left in Dad and Percy's book."

"Hardly a drop in the bucket," Gat joked.

"Difference is these weren't gang bangers."

"Look you know me. I'm not going to give a fuck."

"The last one. There was a kid."

Johnny snapped his mouth shut.

She shook her head. "They weren't the target. Thank God. But it was her mom, Johnny."

Nothing else had to be said. Gat crossed the room and squeezed into the chair next to her. He did not say a word as she curled up against his chest, just laid an arm over her shoulder and held onto her. Gat swallowed hard as the moisture seeped through his shirt. He knew what it meant: Remy had done to some girl what someone did to her. The one thing his best friend never seemed to be able to let go of was her mom. He had not known Remy then. It happened the spring before they started school together, but she told him about it a few times.

Remembering those emotional conversations he hugged her just a little tighter. There were not words for this. No amount of punches worked against this, he knew from experience because he offered once to let her beat him to a pulp if she would just stop crying. But this worked. A silent friend harboring no judgment-someone who knew her. For now, maybe that was all he needed to be.


End file.
